For @mi6-cafe's Moodboard March, here is my first ever moodboard... Janus themed (of course).
That was fun to make 😀
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Moodboard March 3: villains, ambition, black and white.
Bond as Dionysus.
Dionysus cut to pieces is a promise of life: it will be eternally reborn and return again from destruction.
- Friedrich Nietzsche
@mi6-cafe
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Andrea Sacchi, Daedalus and Icarus (c 1645) // Charles Paul Landon, Icarus and Daedalus (1799) // Jacob Peter Gowy, The Fall of Icarus (1635-7) // Charles Baudelaire, The Complaints of an Icarus (1857).
For @mi6-cafe's Moodboard March theme: ambition.
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fuck the tits or ass debate, i find eyebags sooo attractive. your exhausted, sleep-deprived, mildly haunted aura has bewitched me body and soul
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James, you shit…
But do carry on.
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00Q au edit for @ironpe: pre-MI6 relationship
AU where Q and James had a relationship before James was recruited to MI6. After a hasty recruitment, James disappears suddenly, ordered not to contact anyone from his past life, including his lover, the man who would become Q. He's pronounced dead from a botched Naval mission that never happened, and Q goes on to search for him tirelessly for years. Until, one day, they finally meet again, as agent and quartermaster.
---
After one particularly close call, James decides enough is enough. If he can die at any moment, he'd rather do it without any more regrets adding to the pile. So when he goes to return his equipment, he ignores R completely, marches into Q's office and stands right there, locking the door behind him.
Q's mouth opens, but James beats him to it. "I'm not leaving."
"007," Q sighs. "Unless the world is actively imploding, I have nothing to say to you. Kindly return your equipment to your designated handler."
"Alright, Q, you don't need to talk. I only need you to listen to me."
Q stands up, arms folded. Though his demeanor seems guarded, James notes the excessive blinking and the clench in his jaw. "I don't want to listen to any of your excuses, 007."
"No excuses, Q. I'm here to apologize." James lets out a rumbling breath. He can practically hear the grief and regret rattling in his bones, he's tired. "I shouldn't have left like I did. I've broken rules before, could've easily snuck away to contact you. Truth is, by the time I could, I had so much blood on my hands, I couldn't risk staining you. Every day since I've hated myself for hurting you. I'm sorry."
The moments stretch out between them silently, until it's suffocating. When Q finally does break the silence, it's with a whisper. "I thought you died. I've committed treason several times over, hacking into government records just to find you. I didn't want to accept you were dead."
Q looks up at him for the first time, eyes wet. "I grieved you, James, and to find out that you've been alive this whole time--"
James moves closer, but Q holds his hand up to keep him at bay.
"-- and not only that, but to find out you've moved on." Q swallows thickly. "I know about Vesper, James. Do you know what it says in your file?"
He does.
"You almost retired for her. So I suppose I never mattered enough for you to give all this up."
James sighs, defeated. "What can I do to earn back your trust?"
"I don't know if you can." Q hugs himself tightly. "And if you could, this is not the way to do it. You can't just barge in here and ask for things to go back the way they were! This isn't something you can fix with an apology!"
"I know that. I'm not trying for a quick fix, Q, I'm in this for the long run. Whatever it takes, however long it takes, I want to earn your forgiveness, please."
The last word softens Q, the fight dissipating from his posture. "I'll think about it. For now, put what's left of your kit on the table and fuck off."
James nods once, taking the small leather case from his suit pocket and placing it on the desk. "Thank you, Q."
With that, he leaves.
Q opens the case to reveal a gun, radio and electronic lock pick, all fully intact. Despite his better judgment, his battered heart skips a beat.
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